Chapter 14
Cienna
The chatter and laughter grew outside my classroom doors. Clinks rang from the playground as children were already being crowned tetherball champions. The zips and zaps of first-day nerves and excitement permeated the halls of Aisling Day School.
The early bell would ring soon, so I gave my classroom one last look-over.
I opened the top drawer to my freshly organized desk and pulled out my lucky charm, my shiny crystal banana, as I did each school year.
No, not an apple. A banana. Engraved with “You have to be a little bananas to teach kindergarten.” A special gift from my mentor teacher in my master’s program. I patted my teachery talisman right as the first bell rang.
With one last swipe down my skirt, I opened the door to the line of wide-eyed students—and parents—and gave them my warmest smile and wave. “Good morning, kinders! Come on in!”
The children filed in, parents in tow, and I knelt down, making sure to greet each child at their level, then helped them to their cubbies.
I shook the parents’ hands and joked a little here and there, helping to ease their stress.
Chase’s mom, Evelynn, felt guilty about feeding him McDonald’s this morning.
Leia’s dad, Grant, forgot to pack a lunch.
I kept Lunchables in my mini-fridge. Dylan’s nanny, Charity, said he was allergic to gluten, nuts, all citrus, watermelon, and pretty much air.
This was my jam. The overwhelming but rewarding first connection with children and parents. Welcoming them into my classroom as if they were joining a family.
The crowded cubby area began to fill, and I invited children to explore other parts of their new classroom. Up and down. Welcoming kids, finding cubbies, greeting parents. I was dizzy from the buzz of it all. Too dizzy, apparently.
“Oopsie,” I sang out after I stumbled back into a parent, who snagged my arm, not letting me fall. I turned to thank them and nearly choked on my words.
Recoiling, I nearly fell on poor little french fry–scented Chase. The strong hand grabbed mine to help steady me again, and suddenly, I found myself in my classroom, surrounded by curious five-year olds and concerned parents, holding hands with my summer fling. The one that barely flung.
His suit hugged his broad shoulders, and when his face caught the light, his beard shone with vibrant amber, brightening his darker features.
His green eyes were wide and swirling with confusion.
My attention darted to his lips, and I nearly touched my own to prevent them from tingling with the memory.
“Pardon, ahem, Miss.” That voice. Mmm, that voice. Wait. What the fuck? No.
Ripping my hand from his, I nearly gave him the death glare before remembering where we were. My students were watching. Parents were trying to say goodbye to their children on their first day. Seething wrath seeping from my core wouldn’t make for a good first impression.
Then I looked down. Wide emerald eyes peered up at me, big and gleaming with tears. Her vibrant red hair fell in frizzled, curly locks to frame her beautiful little freckled face. Then it hit me. Those eyes. That hair.
My eyes shot back up at Reed. Over his shoulder, I spotted Michelle, my teacher’s aide, stumbling in late with an apologetic look before taking over the welcoming of parents, distracting them from the shit show about to go down.
“Are you kidding me?” I whispered under my breath. High five for not tossing in the F-bomb. Reed’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the little girl. My student. Shit, she’s my student. I knelt down to be eye to eye with those piercing emeralds that felt so familiar.
“Hi, I’m Ms. Vilotta.” I gave her a little wave. The girl’s hands were full with a lunch box and a stuffed animal that she clung to like her life depended on it. Her mouth lifted a tiny bit, and my heart melted. That smile was all too familiar too. “What’s your name?”
Her little whisper was barely audible. “Abigail Elizabeth Marsh.” In that moment, teacher Cienna won over outraged Cienna, and I gave her a gentle pat on her hand. “Abigail Elizabeth Marsh, would you like to see where your cubby is?”
The smallest hint of a smile peeked out again, but she needed more encouragement.
“We can find a spot for your lunch and your little friend.” I patted the plush fox’s head.
“Her name is Cheeto. Mommy named her after her favorite snack,” she whispered, as if it was a secret. Aww, her mommy. Oh… her mommy. Of course there’s a mommy.
Another bout of rage spiked through me, and I peered back at Reed. My head was reeling. Constantly flipping from jealous and infuriated to calm and welcoming. So confused about what to be, say, do.
We shifted over to where Abigail’s cubby was labeled, and she smiled at her name. “That’s A for Abi,” she told me proudly, and I could see her little personality shining through already.
I nodded. “Sure is! You can tuck away your lunch here and find a special spot for Cheeto.”
Abigail gingerly set her lunch box in her cubby space and then hugged her fox before she placed it in the cubby too.
“Perfect.” I smiled and caught Reed staring down at us. His cheeks were flushed, and he was rubbing his thumbnail over his lower lip.
Placing a hand on Abigail’s shoulder, I pointed over to our classroom space. “Some of our new friends are eating snacks at that table, and some are reading books in our library. Do any of those things sound fun to you?”
Abigail shook her head, her feet shuffling beneath her. Reed finally spoke. “Abi, you didn’t eat breakfast. You should go grab some crackers.”
Abigail looked up at him, her eyes wide as if he just suggested she jump off a cliff.
I crouched back down, face-to-face with her again. “Sometimes making new friends makes me nervous. Maybe if Cheeto came with you it would help you feel better?”
She looked over to her cubby and then over at the snack table. After a short pause, she nodded and grabbed her fox.
Reed and I stood together, watching her bravely ease herself over and sit down. Another child immediately asked her about her fox, and she lit up.
Next to me, Reed exhaled loudly. Without turning to him, I whispered, “Well, this is fun.”
Reed turned to face me. “Cienna, can I—”
“WTF, Reed.” Just the letters. Another high five.
“Ci…”
I turned to him, doing my darndest to keep feelings off my face.
“It’s not…” Reed began again.
“You ghosted me. And now I see why.”
He reached out to touch my arm, and as discreetly as I could, I pulled away. “Don’t even, you cheating a-hole.” Stupid teacher instincts. He deserved the real word.
Regardless of my censorship, Michelle must have heard me, because she looked over with a warning. Clearly, my whisper volume increased with my rage. Reed sucked in a breath, put his hands in his pockets, and rocked on his heels. Staring down, he whispered, “Can we talk later, please?”
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate. Infidelity isn’t really a parent-teacher conference topic.” I brought my voice and tone back to an appropriate level. “Have a great day, Mr.…” I fumbled quickly for the full name his daughter just gave me. “Marsh. I’m sure Abigail is going to do wonderfully.”
She looked up at hearing her name and beamed at me.
Reed shuffled uncomfortably, let out a sigh, and gave Abigail a thumbs-up. She returned it. And then I watched him walk out of the classroom without so much as a hug or “I love you” to his child.